


Climb

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ass Play, Canon Divergent, Climbing, F/F, Massage, Mountain Excursions, Sex In A Cave, Vaginal Fingering, as in grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: “This is not what I had in mind,” Clarke panted behind her, “when I mentioned a date.”Lexa slowed her pace enough to twist her head and shoot a glance over her shoulder. Clarke’s cheeks were flushed with exertion, her brow sheened by sweat, yet she scrambled after her stubbornly even though Lexa could read how tired she was in the way the toes of her boots occasionally caught on the jagged rocks littering the path.ORThe one in which Lexa and Clarke go hiking





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this story is inspired by a climb I did over the summer. The path described is of the existing place in the Alps I went to. It is as scary and beautiful as it sounds.
> 
> As always kudos and comments are much appreciated and treasured. Happy reading.  
> \- Dren

“This is not what I had in mind,” Clarke panted behind her, “when I mentioned a date.” 

Lexa slowed her pace enough to twist her head and shoot a glance over her shoulder. Clarke’s cheeks were flushed with exertion, her brow sheened by sweat, yet she scrambled after her stubbornly even though Lexa could read how tired she was in the way the toes of her boots occasionally caught on the jagged rocks littering the path. 

This high, patches of early snow whitened the ground, no more than a bright dusting over bare stone, but Lexa knew it was but the beginning. Winter was flexing its muscles so to speak, and soon enough its hold would grip her lands in their entirety - a vicious chokehold that only the arrival of spring would break. 

But, for now, winter was only a hint of cooler air in the crisp autumn afternoon, the sun still strong enough to lessen the wind’s bite. 

They were alone on the narrow path that led to the mountain top, a road that the Commanders that had come before her had built to connect Tondisi and the Blackwood. Not that Lexa planned to visit the villages hidden within the impenetrable forest that cloaked the valleys far below - at least not on this trip. 

No - the place they were headed to was one rich with memories of her childhood. A spot in which the Gods themselves sometimes would stop to talk, if one knew how to still their heart enough to listen. 

“Don’t your people spend time sharing activities with their loved one?” She asked, holding her hand out for Clarke to grasp and hold on to. They had reached the most dangerous part of their trek - the trail reduced to a lip of rock jutting into the void below that had been carved out from the side of the mountain. The stone here was a deep red veined with marble that reminded Lexa of exposed muscle. The red was due to the iron ensconced within the mountainside, metal that her people dug out during the warm season, and turned into blades for their tillers and scythes for the harvest. 

Or - whenever the need arose - arrowheads and spear tips. 

“We do.” Clarke accepted her help with a grateful nod, and they shared a smile that amounted to more words than they could ever say to each other. Lexa felt the usual fear constrict her heart - not the kind she’d felt upon finding Costia’s head - but the terror that her newfound happiness could be an ephemeral thing, ready to dissolve at the slightest turn of fate, much like morning fog under strengthening sunlight.

“Come.” She let Clarke go first, so that she could tell her where to place her feet if needed, “we’re almost there.” 

They continued to climb in silence, the only sounds the scrape of their boots on weather-worn rock and the whistle of the wind in their ears. As the season worsened the path would become impossible to travel as the winds became gales so forceful they could rip a man off the face of the mountain with little trouble. Even now they had to hunch over to traverse the more exposed stretches of the pathway, both of them grabbing at the lengths of rope that had been nailed to the mountain’s face for support. 

“You know,” Lexa spoke up, noticing that Clarke was casting worried glances at the emptiness opening inches from their shuffling feet, “the merchants from the Red Rock tribe travel this path with specially trained mules.” 

“Madmen.” Clarke muttered, kicking a small stone off the path and watching it spiral down into the shifting clouds below. “Although I have to admit that it is beautiful up here.” She added, blue eyes drawn to the horizon. 

It really was, the sky cast in bronze and purple by the descending sun, the clouds rolling by them rose and gold in hue as a result. The trees below them appeared like a dark, indistinguishable mass as evening’s shadow spread across the valley, the black-green broken only by the occasional glint of a stream. 

And if they didn’t know that the forest’s cover concealed villages and people, it would have been easy to assume they were the last two women wandering the earth. 

Which was not such a bad thought to entertain for a night - Lexa conceded - especially as it meant they got to leave the burdens of their leadership down among the trees. 

It took another few turns of the narrow path, but finally the track led them out onto an open slope, where short grass and a few bushes managed to grow despite the height. The path continued towards the mountain’s peak, where Lexa knew it would crest over and then precipitously fall towards the Blackwood, but she’d never intended to go any further than this. 

“We’re here.” She announced, fighting to hold back a smile at Clarke’s sigh of relief. She led her  _ houmon  _ off the trail, and towards a wall of rock upon which she had learned how to climb under Anya’s watchful eyes. 

The inclement winters had corroded the stone in several places, and Lexa led the way along the mountain’s face until she found the natural cave she had been looking for. 

It was not particularly deep, but it offered plenty of protection from rain and snow. The merchants that travelled this way often used it, and it was empty now only because the cold season was looming too closely for a large caravan to risk travel. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Clarke squinted into the cave, eyes adjusting to the gloom interior. She must have spotted the supplies stacked against the far wall, and the charred place on the stone floor that indicated fires were often lit within. 

“I came here plenty of times as a child,” Lexa replied, “with Anya.” 

She heard a small sigh, tinged with what she thought was regret. If she said she didn’t miss her General and truest friend, Lexa would be lying, but she knew that Clarke keenly felt the warrior’s absence as well, although in a different manner.

Because while Lexa’d had to accept Anya’s death as a consequence, Clarke felt herself to be its  _ cause _ . The truth of it had come out - after the Mountain had been brought down, and the alliance cemented - on a moonless night in which Clarke had entered her chambers like a thief and falling to her knees, begged for her forgiveness. 

Wounds had opened that night that had taken some time to heal, but without the hindrance of secrets between them, they grew close to the point that one of them was never found far from the other.

Despite it all, Lexa agreed with the first assessment Clarke had given her of Anya’s death - it had been a  _ good  _ one, if only for the fact that she had sacrificed herself to find a way to free their people. Perhaps Clarke had thought they would be able to walk back to the Skaikru camp without being challenged, but Anya surely must have accounted for the chance that they may just as easily be killed on sight. 

Which was what had happened. 

It could have been Clarke laying on the ground that night, but her lover failed to see it that way and still blamed herself.

Lexa hoped what she had planned would bring Clarke some closure.

“Let’s get the camp ready.” She gently took Clarke by the elbow and led her inside the cave, “there are things I want to show you before nightfall, and the sun goes down fast this time of year.” 

Already the light failed to touch the furthest recesses of the cave, and the sky outside had taken a turn for the vermillion, the mountaintops around them haloed in scarlet by the sun setting behind. 

They fell into the familiar rhythm that people who spent a lot of time together often shared - stepping into each other’s spaces as they worked without really getting in the way. Clarke took charge of the fire without prompting, her hands rendered swift by long hours of practice, and in watching her Lexa felt her chest swell with a sort of quiet pride. 

At a first glance her lover appeared in everything a grounder, having adopted their garb and many of their customs. Most of the surviving Hundred had followed Clarke to Polis after their ordeals beneath Mount Weather, rejecting the growing isolationism that marked Chancellor Griffin’s rule. 

The Sky People remained allies of course, but seldom ventured beyond the lands she had assigned them, preferring to exchange goods with the other clans that chose to visit them in Arkadia. There were still too many similarities between them and the Maunon for the other grounders to truly see them without suspicion, and it was something Lexa knew only the passing of time could change. 

But for Clarke and the other youths it was a different story - maybe because they had fought the Mountain from within, or perhaps due to their age. They just were seen  _ differently _ , and had become a bridge of sorts between the two cultures.

She realized she had been idling and shook herself into motion with a rueful grin. She had brought fresh meat for their meal - carefully wrapped in oilcloth - and there would be hard cheese and biscuits among the cave’s supplies.

They’d leave something in return for what they were taking of course - because such were their ways - as old as the stone itself. 

The fire brought light and an amazed gasp from Clarke, the flames revealing all of the images adorning the walls. 

“I drew that one when I was six.” Lexa pointed out a length of wall with a small chuckle, Clarke following her finger. 

It was nothing more than stick figures really - a child and a woman wielding spears and chasing prey. Clarke moved closer to the wall, carefully inspecting it, a hand reverently stopping inches away from the stone. 

“You and Anya?” Her blue eyes - which looked almost black in the uncertain light of the fire - were solemn. 

“Yes.” Lexa joined her, rubbing their shoulders together, a sad smile playing along her lips, “here is were I learned to throw the spear. Anya said it was far enough from everyone else that I didn’t risk hitting a passerby by accident.” She laughed. “According to her I had a terrible aim back then.”

Clarke laughed with her, but it sounded brittle, as if she was on the verge of tears instead. 

“Come,” Lexa took her hand this time, squeezing reassuringly, “there is something else I want to show you.”

She led the way back outside, squinting against the last rays of the sun stabbing her eyes. The air had grown considerably colder in the short time it had taken her lover to start the fire, and the sky was now bordered in the deep blue of night. It would be a clear one, Lexa thought, perfect for stargazing. She quickened her pace, racing against the fading light so that she had enough time to show Clarke another piece of her childhood. 

The plateau they had climbed to was mostly hardy grass and bare rocks, but a few stunted pines - bent to weird angles by the strong winds - had stubbornly grown closer to the side of the mountain. It was towards a tight copse of such trees that Lexa walked, wary of the rocks that darkness made harder to spot at their feet. 

“Here.” She guided Clarke’s hand to the gnarled trunk of one, her fingers finding the letters she had carved out what felt like an age ago by memory alone. Anya had been the one to teach her how to read and write and - as soon as she’d had enough command of the written word - Lexa had carved their names into the pine’s bark. 

The cuts were still there - still readable - if perhaps a bit worn by rain and snow.

Clarke’s fingers shook within her own. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Her voice cracked, the beginning of a sob threatening to choke the words out of her throat.

Lexa pulled her away from the tree gently, turning her around so that she could wrap her arms around her. 

“Because I would like you to remember her a different way than you do now.” Even in the scant light of dusk she could see that Clarke’s cheeks were glistening with tears, “like the woman that fought alongside you to get out of Mount Weather. Like the warrior that slapped a handful of mud on your face to mask your scent.” 

At that Clarke huffed, shoulders quaking with a bit of mirth among the tears. 

“She used to do it to me as well,” Lexa continued, stroking Clarke’s hair, “one time she bodily threw me into a puddle of mud after I lost some prey.” 

She had been training for the Conclave by that time, but to Anya she always was the quiet child she’d taken under her wing - and the more she protested in indignation, the more the older woman treated her like a kid.

“You know as well as I what Anya would say if she saw you commiserating her this way.” 

She felt Clarke nod slowly against her shoulder, then her lover pulled away, and even if details were becoming murky, Lexa could feel Clarke’s eyes meet her own.

“I am not...honoring her memory, am I?” 

“No.” Lexa said simply. With someone else perhaps she’d measure her words more carefully, but she had found that Clarke appreciated the directness even when the truths Heda may deliver were the ones most difficult to hear. 

Lexa didn’t understand the Skaikru fixation with grieving their dead - not that the clans didn’t, but it was different. As sad as a loved one’s passing was, her people preferred to remember them with feasts and songs, or to exchange stories of the person’s bravery and character around the fire. The Sky People on the other hand, had a tendency to linger on what they couldn’t change, as if they had not quite come to terms with the inevitability of death. 

“I want to do right by her, Lexa,” Clarke’s soft voice brought her back to the present, and her embrace tightened, “if you’d show me how?” 

“That’s why I brought you here.” Lexa replied softly as they began to make their way back to camp, the moon slowly rising overhead, “although it isn’t the only reason.”

“No?” Clarke spoke up after a while, the light of the fire reaching her face to show that her lips had curved into the mirage of a smile. It was tentative, but her tone was lighter also, and Lexa knew that finally acknowledging she wasn’t over Anya’s death had started the healing process for her lover.

It was slow going to be certain, and fraught with pain - her heart still ached dully whenever she thought of Costia - but embracing the agony of it was the only way to stop grief from swallowing one’s heart whole. 

And no matter how carefully she helped Clarke stitch her heart back together after all the loss she had endured since her coming to the ground, it just wouldn’t look the way it had before she lost her innocence. 

But it could be done, and as they crouched next to the fire working together to prepare their evening meal, Lexa saw acceptance dawn within Clarke’s eyes and knew the healing could begin in earnest. 

“Care to share the other reason you brought me here, Heda?” Clarke asked as they were eating the stew they’d cooked together. 

“Oh,” Lexa let her lips curve in a smirk, relieve to see that a measure of mischief had darkened Clarke’s blue eyes, “you’ll have to spend the night here with me to find out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa shares more stories about her tutelage with Anya and - come morning - she and Clarke linger on the mountain, taking some time for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second and final part of Climb. As usual comments and kudos are very appreciated. Back from my work trip now I can get back to you all!
> 
> Happy reading. 
> 
> (yes this chapter has smut)
> 
> \- Dren

Their meal was simple, but hot and filling. They had a good portion of stew each - Lexa had made it herself, and it was so spicy Clarke’s eyes began to water - accompanied by the crunchy flatbreads her people preferred to bring along when travelling. They didn’t take any cheese from the cave’s supplies in the end, both of them full enough as it was, and ended up curled against each other, backs pressed to the cave’s wall as they gazed at the sky outside, to watch the stars grow brighter as night deepened. 

“Sometimes I still can’t believe your people lived among them,” Lexa gestured to the blackness overhead with her free hand, and pulled Clarke more firmly against her side with the other, “I saw the remains of the Ark, and Raven explained to me how it worked but…” She shrugged minutely, “when Anya first brought me reports of your landing, it was like witnessing Icarus’ legend come to life before my eyes.” 

“I can’t really believe half the things that happened since we fell on Earth.” Clarke admitted with a sigh, her eyes reflecting the cold light of the stars. 

“But you can believe this, right?” Lexa cupped her chin, turning her face towards her so that she could bridge the small distance between them and kiss her gently. 

“Yes.” Clarke murmured against her lips as they broke apart for air, before resting her forehead against hers. “That I can.”

They stood that way a while, the merry crackling of the fire and the stars’ watchful gaze as only company, then Clarke pulled back a little to meet Lexa’s eyes.

“Would you tell me more stories about Anya? And yourself, when you were little.” She was biting her lip as she asked, much like a child herself - begging for one more story before bedtime.

“So that you can rattle me out to the Nightbloods?” Lexa teased goodnaturedly, reaching out to rub her thumb across Clarke’s cheek. 

Predictably her _houmon_ blushed, opening her mouth to protest. 

“I’d never-!” But she stopped and glared the instant Lexa started chuckling, joining in a few moments later as her disgruntled frown melted away.

Lexa leaned forward, running her nose alongside Clarke’s playfully. She treasured these moments they could steal, as rare as it was for them to truly be alone, and she could tell for the warmth that had entered Clarke’s gaze, that her lover felt the same. 

Up here, Heda and Wanheda were titles without meaning, that they could pretend belonged on the shoulders of strangers while they were free to enjoy each other’s company. 

And it didn’t matter that they could do this only by travelling far or when stealing a few moments as they woke before anybody else in Polis. Lexa was determined to make the most of it. 

“Settle down then.” She said as their mirth subsided, “I’ll tell you more.”

She talked well into the night, until her voice grew hoarse, her throat stinging with many more words than she was used to saying in one day. She told Clarke of the one time she’d sneaked to the frozen lake in winter to skate on it, and almost drowned when the ice had broken under her weight, dumping her into the water. Anya had fished her out - and chewed her down one side and up the other even as she held her ward to her chest to warm her up.

Lexa spoke of the day they’d chanced upon a two-headed boar during a hunting run, and how the beast had ended up chasing them round the forest for hours, before they managed to climb a tree to safety. The last bit Lexa left out, quite sure that even though Clarke really would never tell anyone about it, she’d find a drawing of her misadventures where she least expected. 

Clarke’s puffed breath tickled the underside of her jaw and Lexa halted in the midst of recollection, smiling softly when - looking down - she found her lover’s head resting against her shoulder, face turned towards the crook of Lexa’s neck as she slept.

This was not the ending she’d had in mind for their night, but Clarke was unused to such long treks, even though she had started to train with Lexa’s personal guards and Heda herself whenever their duties permitted. 

She had progressed greatly in a few short months, exceeding everyone’s expectation and getting some begrudging praise from Indra as well, but the truth of it was that any of the Nightbloods could still best her with a hand tied behind their back. 

Like the rest of her people Clarke was slighter of build than any of the grounders, her muscles less developed because of life in space. Lexa ached with the memory of the first time she’d seen her lover naked, her ribs pushing almost painfully against her skin, the spaces between each flaring bone quite visible. immediately after their landing, she and the other _yongons_ had gone hungry, but Lexa could tell the lack of food had been something they had experience well before coming to the ground. And while Clarke had deflected most of her questions, Raven had told her that the Delinquents had been kept on half rations which the guards often stole. 

They had been considered criminals, and thus deemed expendable. 

But that was in the past, and Lexa settled down to sleep, carefully pulling Clarke with her. Her lover shifted, nuzzling into her neck, jumbled words falling from her lips as she dreamt on, and Lexa let herself relax, safe in the knowledge that her people could do the same in every village, finally rid of the fear that a _ripa_ would come and steal them from their beds.

She was woken by a series of pained groans, when the sky outside was barely lined in pink, early morning fog swirling at the cave’s entrance and turning the world outside into a half glimpsed dream. 

“Klark?” 

Sleepy muttering was the only answer, and Lexa pushed up on one elbow, turning onto her side and rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her free hand to wake herself up. 

Clarke had moved overnight, and lay belly down on the furs they had spread on the cave’s floor as bedding. Lexa couldn’t hold back a grin at the sight, and gently trailed her fingers through wheat colored hair, coaxing her lover awake. 

Clarke didn’t seem that keen to abandon her state of half-sleep, but finally she raised her head, blinking owlishly in Lexa’s direction. 

“Too early.” She complained, voice thick, as if she’d swallowed gravel, “too sore.” Her blue eyes, veiled with the last, stubborn ruins of her dreams, seemed of a pallid grey to rival the pearly fog outside when they caught the growing light. 

She got as far as a half sitting position, before slumping back down with another loud groan. 

“I guess I am not as fit as I thought.” She muttered, words somewhat muffled by the fact she was pressing her face into the furs. 

“I can offer a massage?” Lexa proposed, pulling the furs down so that she could straddle Clarke’s ass and plant her hands on her lover’s shoulders.

“Cold.” Her houmon whined, eliciting an amused roll of Lexa’s eyes. 

“Someone woke on the wrong side of the bed today.” She teased lightly, fingers scratching at the nape of Clarke’s neck. 

“Someone woke on the ground today.” The girl beneath her shot back, voice cracking slightly as she bit back a shiver. 

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Lexa whispered against the shell of Clarke’s ear, before running her tongue along it. “Promise.” 

Leaving Clarke a shuddering mess, she quickly climbed off her and to her feet, gathering wood from the pile at the back of the cave to stoke the bonfire’s embers into flames. 

The fire regained strength quickly once properly fed, a roaring, hot column that tinted the the tendrils of fog that had made their way inside their resting place a ruddy orange. The cave was small enough that it warmed up quickly, and as the sun lazily climbed up from its nest behind the mountain the mist scattered, the plateau outside coming into view.

“It will work better if you take off your clothes.” Lexa explained, meeting Clarke’s questioning gaze with a cheeky grin, “besides you said you were cold.”

“And that’s the only reason why you wish to see me naked.” Her lover remarked, the smile blooming on her lips so bright it rivaled the sun outside. 

“I only have your well being in mind.” But the blush heating up her cheeks revealed Lexa’s true intentions, and she wondered how it was possible that Clarke still brought out the shy girl ensconced within the deep recesses of her heart sometimes, after they had spent so many months together. 

Clarke made a sound in her throat that was half grunt, half chuckle, then raised her hips and shuffled herself on all fours, before coming to sit on her haunches with a grimace. 

“A little help here?” Clarke was fumbling with the belt and buttons that held her pants in place. Her fingers shook each time she pulled, and made a botched job of her attempt at undressing. 

“I must be more tired than I imagined.” She conceded in the end, shamefully hanging her head and tearing her gaze away when Lexa’s hands finally covered her own. 

“It’s quite alright.” Lexa soothed, thumbs drawing tight circles over the back of Clarke’s hands. “You know how much I like undressing you anyway.” 

She gently pulled Clarke’s hands away from her belt, and eased her back down on the furs, fingers trailing up her clothed stomach, to the strings holding her tunic close. Tugging them loose, Lexa exposed part of Clarke’s collarbone, mouth hurrying to kiss every inch of skin she could get to before her lover could complain of being cold. 

And Clarke actually would, if only to have Lexa kiss her more thoroughly, but she didn’t really need any kind of urging. 

Clarke’s skin was pale in contrast with her own, Lexa’s overall complexion toughened by harsh weather and tanned by many seasons spent training under the sun. A lot of the Arkers had burned easily during their first summer, and suffered a slew of other issues, unused as they were to sunlight. Clarke had helped those that were in Polis, and Lexa had sent healers to assist Chancellor Griffin. 

It was better now, with the Sky People growing stronger as time went by. 

A strength she found evidence of as she slid the tunic off Clarke’s shoulders. She remembered their first time - it would be forever branded into her bones - and how much softer Clarke had been under her touch. 

She still was in a way, but her arms were roped with muscles from all the sword training, and while Lexa loved her _houmon_ ’s curves, especially when pressed into her more angular frame, she also liked the way she could feel Clarke’s abs tense under her fingertips as she slid her other hand under her clothes. 

When prompted, Clarke readily lifted her arms, allowing her to pull her tunic off. Lexa tossed the piece of clothing to the side and, just as Clarke was lifting her hips encouraging, an eager gleam brightening her eyes, she spun her around, guiding her back down to lay on her belly. 

Clarke’s muttered disapproval ceased the moment Lexa straddled her ass, placing her hands on the dip between her lover’s shoulder blades and slowly working her way outwards to cajole tense muscles into relaxing. 

Ever so slowly the tightness that had accumulated during their climb dissolved, and Clarke abandoned herself to Lexa’s expert hands with a small moan. 

The sound reached somewhere deep within her, and Lexa shook with the echoes of it like a leaf on the verge of falling to the ground. She couldn’t help she felt herself grow wet, nor that the shaking of her soul was reflected in a shiver that trapped her spine for a long moment, pulling it taut as fire raced downwards to her core. 

Clarke must have perceived the tensing of Lexa’s body above her own, because she canted her hips up, rolling them so that the cusp of her ass deliberately dragged against Lexa’s mound. 

Just as the blaze was dying down it flared back with a vengeance, so hot that the marrow of her spine reached flashing point. Lexa gasped, barely stifling the moan that threatened to follow her exhale by biting down on the inside of her cheek but, when Clarke arched up again, a strangled whimper still managed to claw its way past her clenched teeth. 

She lifted up and, bringing one hand down, soundly slapped Clarke’s ass, feeling the skin under the palm of her hand warm despite the pants her lover was still wearing.

“Ow!” Clarke let out a yelp, pushing up on her forearms to half-twist around and shoot her a dirty look, “what was that for?” 

“You, being a brat,” Lexa glared back, watching as a wide-eyed, hurt look that would deceive absolutely no one spread across her lover’s face. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Clarke replied, her words ending in a squeal when Lexa’s fingers closed around the nape of her neck, squeezing firmly. Moments later as she let her hand slide forward to close around Clarke’s throat, the sound morphed into a whine, her lover allowing Lexa to push her down meekly.

“You will lay _still_ ,” Lexa clasped Clarke’s throat tight enough to feel her neck strain against her hand whenever she breathed, “have I made myself clear?” She bent forward, snarling the question against Clarke’s earlobe, right before she bit it hard, tugging the tender flesh between her teeth.

“Sha, _Heda_!” Clarke pushed her face into the furs beneath her with a groan that broke into helpless, needy sobs as she arched her neck, causing Lexa’s fingers to dig deeper into the flesh of her throat. “ _Sha_!” 

Her hips jerked again before she could bring her body under control, forward this time, as she sought a glimmer of reprieve against the pelts bunching under her belly. 

Lexa worried her earlobe between rough teeth, her fist tightening, inexorably crushing the air out of Clarke’s lungs. And the instant she felt her lover’s throat futilely spasm she let go, her hand moving to Clarke’s back to rub slow circles along the sides of her heaving ribcage, her _houmon_ wheezing and palming at the furs underneath her. 

“Was that too far?” She laved the teeth marks with careful flicks of the tongue, pulling back with a frown when she could taste blood. Her teeth had pierced the skin of Clarke’s earlobe, albeit slightly, and she felt terrible for it, a pit of fear opening within her, ink-black and bottomless. 

When Clarke made no reply her disquiet only grew, and she carefully nosed along her lover’s jaw, brain whirling frantically to find words suitable enough to beg forgiveness.

“Gods, no.” Clarke croaked, turning her head to face her as Lexa let herself dejectedly fall by her side. “No, Lexa.” The blonde leaned in and kissed her, teeth scraping at her bottom lip until Lexa granted entrance to her tongue. She melted into Clarke with a relieved whimper, giving over control of their kiss gladly, and when Clarke drew her tongue back into her own mouth sucking on it hard, Lexa allowed it, kissing her until her lungs started to burn.

“I liked how you went all Commander on me,” Clarke admitted after a while, drawing back to peck the tip of her nose, “you’re always so wound up…” Deft fingers undid the laces of Lexa’s shirt, Clarke’s hand slipping inside to trace her collarbone, “so careful, and gentle. Which I like,” she added in a hurry, catching a flicker of something in her eyes, “but I wouldn’t mind rough once in awhile.” 

“No?” The vise that had been gripping Lexa’s heart slackened, and she rested her forehead against Clarke’s, letting worry slowly lift from her green eyes.

Clarke shook her head, a tender smile gracing her lips. 

“Still,” Lexa muttered with a grimace, “I let myself get carried away.” She had been raised to always be in control of her body, her emotions, and the fact that she had slipped even for a moment greatly bothered her. But Clarke had unlocked something wild within her, a part of her that had been deep asleep, like a beast of the forest forgetting to rouse itself in time for spring. She had known that it existed, feeling it like a gap between two teeth, or an aching space waiting to be filled, but it had been a threshold she’d never allowed herself to cross.

Not with Costia either. 

And it wasn’t that she’d loved her any less than she loved Clarke - such a comparison would be unfair and untrue because if Lexa had learned something it was that every kind of love was unique in its own way - but she figured she had done a lot of growing in between the two of them. 

And the times were different overall - different enough that even Heda could forget about self-control every now and then. 

“I mean it, Lexa,” Clarke traced the groove Lexa’s thinking had dug between her eyebrows. “What are you so pensive about?” 

“Nothing really.” But it was clear her lover wasn’t buying it, and she amended, “well. Everything that brought us where we are.” 

“No wonder you’re frowning hard like that.” Clarke cupped her cheek and rubbed their noses together, “what about the rest of my massage?” She joked, a pout tugging at her lower lip, “at this rate we’ll have to head back before you finish.” 

“Oh I’ll finish you alright.” Somehow Clarke always knew what to say to get her out of her introspective moments, and she loved her for it more than she could say. 

Clarke rolled back onto her belly, casting an impatient look her way and Lexa couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

“Well?” Her lover prodded, a smirk curling at the corners of her lips, “I promise I’ll lay still.”

Lexa made a noise in her throat. “We’ll see about that.”  

She straddled Clarke again, hands running up and down her spine with ease despite the bindings still wrapped around her lover’s chest. Clarke stretched under her, spine popping loudly as she twisted her neck this way and that, enjoying the loosening of sore muscles. 

Lexa lost herself in the workings of her hands, fingers finding the scars her lover had acquired in training without her really looking. She loved mapping every inch of Clarke’s body whenever she had the chance, because no matter how many times she took paths that had grown familiar, there was always something new to discover. 

This time it was a mole she spotted, right where Clarke’s spine dipped out of sight under the waistband of her pants. 

She bent down and pressed a hungry kiss to the spot she’d just discovered, sweeping her tongue across it, a secret smile buried against Clarke’s flesh as she felt her quiver.

True to her word, her lover relaxed into the furs for a while, but as Lexa’s hands followed Clarke’s spine in a spiralling journey that neared the destination her lips had just touched, her lover canted her hips up again, grinding more than willfully against her mound. 

“Will you stop?” Lexa growled, shooting her a long-suffering look despite the fact she couldn’t see it. 

“Why, when I can feel how wet you are getting?” It was true - her initial dampness turned into a veritable flood that slicked her folds. And with each grind of Clarke’s ass into her front, she dripped more, and her clit was already swollen, its tip pushing past her folds to rub against the fabric of her underpants. 

“ _Klark_ …” Lexa warned, or rather tried to. Her voice lacked sternness, and the sigh that followed was entirely desire. 

“Do it Lexa,” Clarke urged, voice deep and crooning, “let control go.” She arched up again, twisting her hips in a circle to grind harder into Lexa’s pelvis. “ _Ride me_.”

“Spirits!” Lexa gasped, hands grasping Clarke’s shoulders for support. Clarke squeezed her cheeks together and she groaned, hips stuttering once before the ropes of her restraint snapped, her body entirely conquered by lust. 

She rocked her hips languidly, falling into an easy rhythm with a whimper. Clarke praised her encouragingly each time she ground into her ass, causing her to up the tempo of her thrusts. Lexa was thankful for the firmness of Clarke’s shoulders under her hands, her nails leaving scarlet markings down her shoulder blades whenever the seam of her pants pushed into the sensitive tip of her clit. 

“Gods you’re so wet it’s seeping through,” Clarke’s voice had thickened, the hint of a whine trapped within her words. Lexa was aware that whenever she pushed down with her weight, she caused her lover to grind onto the pelts covering the cave’s floor, and wondered if they could both get to release like that, climax together and fall into a shambles of heaving chests and tangled limbs. 

“Just stop thinking about me.” Clarke spat as if she could read Lexa’s thoughts - which in all honesty would not be that surprising - then her tone softened. “let it all go, Lexa. Just come all over me, _hodnes_.” 

Lexa closed her eyes, screwing them tightly shut against the scorching blaze of her own need. Still, white flowers of undiluted light blossomed behind her eyelids, blinding her to everything save for the sway of their hips. They moved in perfect harmony, like two waves that belonged to the same sea, and with every pass of her core against Clarke’s firm ass she edged closer to her release, so close that she could taste the precipice of it. 

When she came, she did so quaking, her spine shattering under the force of her orgasm. She collapsed like a dam giving way to a raging river engorged by seasonal rains. She fumbled, her clit beating a wild tattoo between her legs as her walls clamped down around nothing, and then she felt Clarke’s fingers close around her own, holding her hand tight. 

“I got you, Lexa.” Clarke cooed, somehow flipping them around enough that she could hold her, “ _I’ve got you_.” 

Lexa slumped into her lover’s arms, face buried into her chest as the last of her release dripped down her thighs. Her pants were a mess but she was past caring, the world disappearing, drowned like a boat in stormy seas by the thumping of her blood within her ears. 

The scent of Clarke’s arousal subtly made its way into her lungs, ephemeral like smoke, and she shrugged off the lassitude that was making her limbs tingle, fingers hooking into the waistband of Clarke’s trousers to finish the job of undressing her.

And then the heady smell of sex hit her in earnest, her eyes drawn to the glistening folds of Clarke’s sex, fingers skimming along her lover’s slit even before her pants and underwear were completely off. 

She knew she ought to go slow, but Clarke seemed of a different mind altogether. Her legs fell apart without prompting, and she lifted her hips up, grabbing Lexa’s wrist in an attempt to direct her fingers to her entrance. 

“Please?” She begged, rubbing herself against Lexa’s hand. “Please, _Commander_.”  

That did it, and Lexa entered her heat with two fingers, thumb pushing back her clit’s hood to rub its tip insistently. Clarke bucked under her with a moan, fingers scrabbling and fisting at the furs. The channel of her lover’s body clamped down around Lexa’s fingers, pulling her in to the hilt, and she dragged herself out with difficulty, fingertips seeking the hardened ridge on Clarke’s front wall. 

She massaged it with each stroke, thumb mirroring the movement on Clarke’s clit, and while the pattern of her thrusts wasn’t overly fast, it didn’t take long for her lover to bear down into her hand with a hoarse scream.

Clarke spent herself in Lexa’s waiting palm, and she slowed her fingers further, reaching as deep as she could to help her _houmon_ weather her pleasure. Clarke crested a second time and, when Lexa didn’t stop, a third. 

“I can’t...Lek-sa…” Clarke sagged into the furs, and Lexa carefully pulled out, bringing dripping fingers to her mouth. Clarke’s heavy-lidded eyes snapped open and she gasped, lapping up the spectacle of Lexa sucking her own fingers clean one by one.

“I may just have come again from that,” Clarke husked, pressing her slicked thighs together, “and if you keep it up, you’ll have to carry me down the mountain.”

They both laughed at that, then Lexa reached for the pelts they had discarded and they snuggled into each other, watching the sun dispel the last wisps of the fog away. 

They ignored the passing of time as long as they could, but finally - as the sun reached its zenith - they gathered their things and begrudgingly left the cave behind. On the way down they hunted, bringing down a deer between them.

It was the first prey that size Clarke had managed to successfully hunt, and before they tied the carcass up to bring at the nearest tradepost, Lexa dipped two fingers in the blood, anointing Clarke’s forehead as her people had done for generations.

“Kill for the living,” she told her lover somberly, “and kill for the dead.” 

The only thing they kept from the deer were the antlers, and it took Clarke a fortnight to scrimshaw Anya’s name and likeness on a piece that Lexa sawed off for the purpose. 

Lexa watched her do it - nicking herself countless times in the process - and then when Clarke was ready they went to the place where Anya’s ashes had been scattered. 

In rich, dark soil Clarke buried both the token and her grief, warpaint of the deepest blue tinting her cheeks. 

********************************************

Only a few knew where the General had gone back to the forest, and year after year they visited - some alone, some in small group. Yet all of them, Heda and Wanheda included, witnessed a willow grow, its trunk candid white. 

And every now and then when the wind shook its slim branches, they swore to a man that they could hear Anya’s voice in the rustling of its leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on TUMBLR for more stories and exclusive content](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/)


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